


Take Me to Church

by ThirteenSocks



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Catholic Guilt, Homophobia, Internalized Homophobia, Keith is 18+, M/M, This more plot than porn, but there is a power difference
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-06
Updated: 2019-01-13
Packaged: 2019-10-05 09:33:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17322470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThirteenSocks/pseuds/ThirteenSocks
Summary: ”Hey, Ke- Wait,” Shiro’s expression on seeing Keith knits knots in his stomach, but its fall to scrunched together brows and a frown take that knitting needle and stab him from the inside out. ”Keith, are you...” he pauses and guides Keith away from the doorstep and into the car, continuing when they’re in the safety of its closed doors, ”Are you drunk?”Keith can fool damn near anyone. Damn near.But not him. Not Shiro. ”I-..uhm, yeah.”Shiro- well, Keith isn’t sure what he does. Keith looks away before Shiro can freeze him in place, the way he always does, with those warm eyes and chiseled face. Keith lets his fingers dig into the fabric of the seat. If there were any proof of a creator it would be Shiro’s existence.”Keith, you confessed. The Lord heard you, he heard us. It’s-””-What? Ok? You think this ok? It’s not. It’s not ok that we- It’s just, it’s not. So save it for the pulpit.” Keith shoves the empty soda can on the floorboard with his boot. It crunches between his foot and the carpeting.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [NotRedGlasses](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NotRedGlasses/gifts).



> Wow such summary  
> So telling  
> Very detail  
> Wow
> 
> Based on an AU by @notredglasses on Twitter

Keith’s mind is tucked deep inside the few glasses of wine he’s downed. It’s a wonderful and terrifying haze. He’s too far away for his body to contact him and it just feels like there’s a warmth where feeling should be. It’s winter but his window is cracked. His fan tossles the air from one side of the room to the other while making the sound of waves churning in the ocean. He clicks his phone open after a few botched attempts to grip the device. It’s 11:00. Am, not pm. 11 in the morning and he’s several layers into alcohol.

He coughs and winces at the scratch in his throat. The chorus director will be pulling him aside to remind him of the importance of taking care of the body as God’s temple. ”Your voice, young man, is a gift. And gifts are to be used to praise our Lord. When you neglect your care, you are spitting in God’s face. He does not want to hear your singing as it stands right now.” Keith will nod and watch the floor before taking a seat on the benches. He’ll hear the whispers amongst the rest of the group but he’ll close his eyes and listen.

Keith staggers over to the sink and splashes cool water on his skin before heading to get ready for choir practice. It’s the weekend before Christmas and they’ve been rehearsing daily.

When Keith is brushing his teeth he catches his own gaze in the mirror. The man he sees looks haggard but no more than he does any other day. There’s purple beneath his eyes and dullness to his iris. Though the bathroom light bathes him in it’s sickly yellow there’s nothing in his eyes to reflect that and so it’s a cold, dead stare.

He finishes up the routine by washing his face in the hopes it washes down the feeling of being dirty.

The phone beeps out a cheerful tune letting him know he has a text. He opens it to see that Shiro is waiting outside. ”Almost ready,” he replies.

The thought of seeing Shiro sobers him a bit. But he’s also so used to being out of his mind that he could down a full bottle of wine and be none the worse for wear. He stumbles a bit going down the stairs though. If he doesn’t keep the bravado in his head then he’s left with nothing to stand on. 

”Hey, Ke- Wait,” Shiro’s expression on seeing Keith knits knots in his stomach, but its fall to scrunched together brows and a frown take that knitting needle and stab him from the inside out. ”Keith, are you...” he pauses and guides Keith away from the doorstep and into the car, continuing when they’re in the safety of its closed doors, ”Are you drunk?”

Keith can fool damn near anyone. Damn near.

But not him. Not Shiro. ”I-..uhm, yeah.”

Shiro- well, Keith isn’t sure what he does. Keith looks away before Shiro can freeze him in place, the way he always does, with those warm eyes and chiseled face. Keith lets his fingers dig into the fabric of the seat. If there were any proof of a creator it would be Shiro’s existence.

”Keith, you confessed. The Lord heard you, he heard us. It’s-”

”-What? Ok? You think this ok? It’s not. It’s not ok that we- It’s just, it’s not. So save it for the pulpit.” Keith shoves the empty soda can on the floorboard with his boot. It crunches between his foot and the carpeting.

Shiro finishes the rest of the drive in silence.

Keith isn’t sure he’s greatful for it.

* * *

 

”Yo, Keith. You keep him up again? Ayesh, I don’t even know why he still does it for you,” Lance smacks Keith on the back, turning to Shiro, ”Forgive him, Father Shiro.”

”Lance, cut it out. He’s got better things to do than mingle with the choir boys,” Keith ducks out of the hand on him and goes to join Hunk and Pidge.

”Oh, hey, Keith! Dude, we weren’t sure you were gonna make it. Uh, ok, well, no that isn’t true. I mean I will admit it was mostly me. No offense, dude. But your track record isn’t so gre-” Pidge elbows him hard.

”Ignore him. Lance just got him all worked up by swearing today would be the day you dropped and he’d finally get to sing your part.” She hangs her fist up for him to bump and pumps it in victory when he obliges her.

”Not happening. Lance can’t hit the G and if anything they’d call in James from his family trip to Korea.”

”Ugh, don’t say that name, K. He’s gonna come back with stories and all the cheap tourist merch because he got swindled by not being assed-,” ”Dude, language,” ”-to learn a single word. My money’s on that he tries to explain the culture to you.”

There is no doubt in Keith’s mind that James is going to flaunt it to him.

”Well I’m here now so can we just start?” He can hear Shiro testing out the mic. His voice is smooth.

They start their warmups but it’s only a few notes from Keith before he’s lectured and benched. ”You’re spitting in His face, Keith. Lord have mercy on you that you may one day do anything but all that you are doing now.” Keith swallows the words like he’s swallowed the tears and the other things that take him to his knees on the floor of the confession booth.

The sweet buzz of the alcohol is gone.

He tries to keep focus on the choir. Pidge swats her sheet music at Lance’s head when he misses a note. Their director rubs his temples and orders the two to stand quiet. He cues in Hunk and Ryan to sing their parts. The notes come from deep in their chests, Keith can tell, from the sultry timbre and power behind them. He can imagine the notes welling through their broad chests, and expanding inside their ribcage. They cascade out their mouths as smooth as fingers draw across velvet. Keith’s head feels fuzzy.

He catches Ryan’s eye, and then he rips his attention away from them.

Shiro’s at the pulpit. His stance is proud as it always is. The light that seeps in through the stained glass windows seems to bends around him and frame him like even light is under his command. And perhaps that’s true. Perhaps Shiro is just one step below God. The robes that adorn his wide shoulders and the scripture that weaves from his tongue messages of love and forgiveness and also sin and damnation are probably indications of such.

Keith doesn’t want to but he’s drawn to Shiro like a man laid to waste, throat arid and bleeding from dryness, and Shiro is the cool spring that’s always within reach. If he dies, he dies because he’s refused to partake in quenching his thirst.

Keith stares on knowing he’s going to have a lot to say in confessional.

 


	2. Chapter 2

”Come on it’s lovely weather for a sleigh ride together with you,” Lance and Pidge sing. Lance twirls Pidge who’s held onto his upper arm with a tiny, woolen gloved hand. They dip and dance like they’re on as the continue to belt the song. Keith watches the people around nervously but it seems like the two’s ability to actually carry the tune is apology enough for their boister. Hunk is fidgeting with something in his coat pockets beside Keith. Probably just his own fingers.

They end with grand spin and stuck landing.A few people clap.

”You know if we’re gonna be caroling shouldn’t we be like, singing the classics? Like maybe the stuff that would appear in a certain Christmas choral performance and that church that will totally have no less than a few hundred people?”

”Ugh, dude,” Lance stretches out the vowel, ”No. That’s what the practices are for. We’re on break right now.”

Pidge bumps him with her marshmallow-like padded shoulder. It reduces the force of impact and Lance is only barely pushed to the side. ”In other words, ”I don’t want to recreate the disaster from earlier.””

Lance fixes on Hunk but all Hunk offers two open palms in the universal sign of surrender.

”I saw mommy kissing Santa Claus,” Keith begins quietly but stops when the others come to a standstill. He can feel them staring despite his eyes firmly trained on his boots. 

Hunk erupts into a hearty laugh and then continues where Keith left off.

They trudge through the open market singing.

A soft vibration plays inside Keith’s pocket and against his leg. The delightful thrum of heat of energy from the others is blown away leaving the air around to naw against his face and beneath his coat. The other three are chatting animatedly and he’s glad they don’t notice the spirit melt from him. He clicks the screen of his phone on to a message from Shiro. The preview reads, ”Keith, I’m sorry. I didn’t know either. We need to t-” and Keith doesn’t open it to follow the rest of that sentence. 

Pidge acquires some handmade crafts here and there. Hunk buys a stack of cards. Lance gets some baked goods. And Keith just came to window shop because the home doesn’t pay allowance and his time at church is hours towards community service per court orders. There’s no time between school and church for a job.

”Thank you Mrs. Holt,” Keith says as he buckles in. 

”Keith, dear, really, you can just call me colleen,” she turns in her seat and the smile on her face is warm and loving. He mutters an apology which she shakes her head to, but she drops the subject at least.

He tunes out most of the idle chatter between Pidge and her mom. They’re talking about their days and Pidge is informing her about Lance’s flub during their practice. She snorts not unlike the way Pidge always does but has the grace to not laugh. It still manages to seem fond.

”-eith? How about you? I heard Acxa invited you to Lotor’s for the New Year.”

Keith chokes on his own spit. ”Lotor?” He manges to get out. But it’s strained and a higher pitch than he’d like it to be. ”Uh, I- I mean Acxa. Yeah, she. Yeah. I was. Invited, yeah.”

Pidge crinkles her nose like something’s tickled it but she doesn’t saying anything. Which is never a good thing. She’s too smart when it comes to Keith’s romantic life , too much for Keith’s comfort.

”Well we’re still doin’ the ’ol Holt Years Eve, so. Y’know.” Pidge shrugs and it causes the leather of her seat to squeak, ”At least don’t miss Christmas.” 

The two wait in the car until he’s at the doorstep and waves them off. He listens to the hum of the engine and follows the trail of headlights as the car goes back to the other part of town. The sole streetlamp on the block is a few houses down the dirt road and its flickering across the snow at its base. His breath is both audible and visible. They’re too far away from the city centre to see any foot traffic and the shelters have already opened for the winter. The crime that would bloom in summer is dampered by the frost and subsequent allure of indoor heaters.

Snow is coming down in big flakes. It would make him cold but for the coat donated by the city’s annual coat drive. It’s two sizes too big, Lance had pointed out. But it sweeps to just above Keith’s knees and in this weather there’s nothing too big for it.

He fishes into the pocket and brings out a cigarette and lighter. If he’s caught they’ll be confiscated so he strolls away from the home and the light. 

Lotor.

His fingers tremble as the grasp the cigarette and move it so he can exhale.

The first time Keith crossed that part of God’s word was his freshmen year. He found Jesus while drunk in a closet with Lotor. The first time he’s ever been tasted and it’s by those curved lips that belong to that sharp face. Keith’s fingers find long hair, long silver hair, and he tries to picture it’s Allura. Only his mouth goes bitter at the thought of her ever being on her knees. But he’s young and desperate and the mouth is wet and finishes anyways. He finds Jesus the same night he loses Him.

He finishes another cigarette before heading back.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you thought I’d let go of Christmas It’s Christmas until it’s Easter.   
> (I missed my favorite holidays being ill and I’m trying to keep the magic for just a little longer. Lord knows I need some magic right now.)


	3. Chapter 3

He’s heads inside and removes his shoes at the door. There’s no box nor cabinet to place them in so he has to carry them dripping wet up the stairs. The lights are off and it’s silent. It’s too early for others to be there. He takes advantage of the fact and  hurries into the bathroom for a shower.

He runs the shower scalding and files away at his skin with his nails. The soap rinses down before he’s done clawing himself. He scrubs from head to toe letting the water burn off the dead skin and then flips the handle to the coldest it goes. He grits his teeth and hisses. He’s raw from scratching and boiling himself and the freezing sheets of water crash upon him tiny bolts of lightning.

When he turns the water off he braces a hand against the wall and watches the drain gurgle. It smells like mildewed hair and feet. He wonders when the last time it’s been cleaned.

Keith dresses and pulls out the cleaning supplies. The home has been gracious to let him stay passed his 18th birthday and he takes care of the house to feel like he’s not just wasting resources. He’s promised himself to get a job and move out on his own as soon as his community service is done.

He tidies the bathrooms, wiping down the counters and scrubbing the sink and tub. The drain will need some chemicals and he makes note to let them know.

After they’re as spotless as they’ll get he readies for bed. A few of the kids have returned but he respects their space and they respect his, at least he likes to think of it that way when he sees them chatting or playing games with each other.

 

”Nnnh,” his phone is going off, waking him from a cold sleep, and he’s thumping around the bed to find it.

”Keith.” One of his roommates whines.

”I know, I know, I’m sorry. I’ll get up,” he throws the covers off and sees the phone lying between his legs. ”Hey, hold on,” he answers and quick walks out of the room and down the hall to the balcony. Immediately he regrets not taking a coat. It’s still snowing and his thin pajama pants aren’t much of a barrier. ”Hello?”

”Yo, gremlin, we’re going to the movies,” Pidge sounds perky and Keith can hear Hunk and Lance in the background, ”And don’t, ’but I don’t have money, me’. We’ve already got your ticket so get ready. Oh and Matt’s chaperoning, he’s officially calling it as group bonding, so bring your service logs and he’ll sign it.”

Keith hates imposing but they already paid and he never turns down a chance for hours. ”Fine. Getting ready now, text me when you’re leaving.” 

”Text me when you’re ready.”

”Ladies first,” he snorts and shakes his leg off to the side to warm up.

”Well, duh. That’s why I’m letting you go first. And I can hear you cursing me in your head, mister. The Lord hears all, Keith.”

He holds the retort knowing he’ll get her later.

Getting dressed and washed up takes him no more than 15 minutes but he texts Pidge as soon as the call ends because the home is so far from the centre. He still ends up waiting a bit outside. It’s early and the sun has just come up. The news anchors had said to expect more snow even though the day would start out clear. Despite having the whole sky to itself the sun just isn’t warming anything through the cold.

Matt pulls up in the church minivan and someone slides open the door for him.

”Hey there,” Matt twists in his seat and waves enthusiastically. He’s wearing a black shirt with the words ’Got Jesus?’ Printed in white, where the ’t’ is extended into a cross.

Keith greets them and shuffles into the seat. He leans forward with an elbow across the back of Pidge’s headrest. ”So this is incredibly necessary to strengthen our walk with the Lord, but it must be a sacrifice that the pastor’s practice is right now.”

”As leader of the youth ministry it is absolutely my duty to guide you young and impressionable children towards the correct path.”

Pidge reaches an arm over and smacks Matt’s shoulder. ”Apparently the path to rightenous includes a tub full of popcorn and an extra large soda.”

”I mean, it’s not, like, wrong though. Consider it... fellowship?” Hunk offers with a shrug.

”Ugh I can’t believe I’m stuck in fellowship with Keith.”

Keith groans.

”Alright children, settle down,” Matt switches the van into drive and twists up the dial on the radio. New age Christian rock and pop blast through the speakers as the head into the city. The other three tap away at their phones. Keith can see that Lance is on facebook from the reflection in the window. He’s content to watch the outside world scroll in front of him. It really is magic in the wintertime.

A song by Skillet plays through the car, but it’s upbeat and more pop than rock, ”I miss their old stuff,” Keith says to Matt.

”They did used to go a bit harder back in the day, huh?”

Yeah.

Keith misses that.

 

They skip the lines, ’a benefit to foresight,’ Pidge explains as she waves the tickets around. Keith goes to reserve their seats as the others get the popcorn, soda, and candy. He chooses the middle row and lays his jacket a few seats down to signify that the spots are reserved. Looking around as the theater starts to fill in he realizes that romantic comedies must be prime choice for the season. That or this particular movie has great reviews or popular actors. Lance had tried to raise Keith’s interest by telling him who was in it but the names meant nothing to him, to Lance’s upset.

Keith takes in the sight and sound of the people around him. Their happy chatter and laughter is contagious and he’s content to soak in it whilst the previews scroll through the same 5 comercials.

Matt sits next to him and plops a bucket down in his lap.

Keith tries to hand it back but Matt tells him that his papers won’t get signed if he doesn’t accept having some popcorn. Then he sends Keith a look as he places one soda on Keith’s cupholder and Hunk puts one is Matt’s and his own.

The lights dim and more commercials play.

”Keith,” Matt leans over, ”Let’s talk afterwards.”

Matt means well. Keith knows he means well. ”I’m not talking to him, please don’t do this.” But Matt was Shiro’s friend first.

Matt swishes his mouth around like he’s churning thoughts. ”Fine, but, you can talk to me, I hope you know. I won’t tell him what you tell me.”

”Ok,” It’s not a commitment to actually talk, but Matt deserves to know Keith’s heard Him, ”thanks.” 

Matt squeezes Keith’s shoulder and digs into the popcorn, flicking a piece at Keith’s forehead.

The movie is hard for him to watch. The man is sculpted and muscled beneath his tight tanktop. His arms are looped around the front of a beautiful woman whose eyes are closed soft. They're swaying to a love song. Keith's eyes are stinging and it takes a few swallows to clear his throat.

Matt shifts beside him but he keeps his eyes on the screen if a bit unfocused. 

When the movie ends he follows Lance and Hunk. They go to the restroom while Matt refills the popcorn tubs, "You can't get the same taste at home," he says. Keith wonders how long it will take him to eat through three, large tubs. Keith says he'll read the eulogy for Matt's gut.

 

 

"Ok, dude, seriously,” Matt drags a lone french frie through the small mountain of ketchup, ”Can we talk?”

Lance, Hunk, and Pidge are busy gaming in the arcade room adjacent to the theater. Their loud whoops can be heard even from where Keith is sitting in the food court. Keith wonders how long it will take for staff to go in there and ask the three to quiet down. 

”Keith?”

Keith looks down at his own frie mound and picks at it. ”I guess.” There’s not much choice, Matt’s his ride and he doesn’t have bus fare.

”Look I- Shiro didn’t tell me what exactly happened, so don’t be mad at him. I just noticed that he seemed spaced out. I assumed it had to do with you. Other than church, you’re all he talks about.”

The whoops have changed into taunts. Keith can’t make them out from here but he can almost guess what they’re saying by their tone. Hunk seems to be mediating.

”Keith, hey. Stay with me. You’re... scaring me.” Matt’s face holds all the sincerity of that statement.

”I’m fine, just tired.” So tired.

Matt’s cheek puckers in and his jaw makes subtle movement. ”Is this about... About the Lotor-”

”-No, it’s not. I’m fine. That was- Matt why did you bring that up- I, I already confessed. It’s gone. Done. God’s forgiven me-”

”Keith!” Matt claps a hand on the table. He doesn’t seem to have noticed he’d risen out of his seat until he breathes and settles back down. ”I- Sorry. We’ve just talked about this, yknow? I.. I don’t think it’s a sin. You know that. Keith if this is who you are then it’s God’s design. He doesn’t make mistakes.”

”I’m not... that.”

”Gay, Keith. It’s ok. That’s not a bad word and it’s not a bad thing.”

For a second Keith can see in his mind a pair of strong, muscled arms slip around his waist and hold him close, he sees a handsome face that kisses from his forehead to his lips, a large hand clasping his with a yellow-gold band around the fourth finger. He doesn’t dare look up, he doesn’t want the face to really come into focus. ”Yeah, ok. But that’s not me. Even if it were I.. I wouldn’t- it’s not like it matters.” 

Matt sighs and cups a hand over Keith’s. ”I’m sorry for forcing you to talk. You probably trust me even less now but, I’m here. Ok. Don’t try and go it alone.”

The muscles of Keith’s cheeks protest with ache and exhaustion but he manages the best smile he can.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay in replies (across all fics orz) life is Wild ™ and tbh this fic is really way more autobiographical than I’d like it to be

**Author's Note:**

> Fiction ≠ reality
> 
> Canon Shiro has near perfect morality so take your hate elsewhere if you think this proof of anything


End file.
